Demons, Part One
by Princepen
Summary: In honor of the 25th Anniversary of TNG, I am offering a re-imagining of the first mission of the TNG crew. No offense to Encounter at Farpoint, which I like very much. Please expect a lot of back story, building off what appears in my other stories. This is the first chapter of part one. I hope you enjoy.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own Star Trek and neither does Disney...yet.**

Part One, Chapter 1

It had rained the entire day. It was the kind of rain from which there was no escape. It came down in sheets and left a person so soaked that he appeared pathetic to anyone watching from inside a warm dry enclosure. It was also the kind of rain that one remembered quite fondly, after being in space for too long. Thinking back, it was one of the most notable features of that day, but certainly not what he most remembered.

What he remembered was the wrenching honesty of the day. It was the day of the funeral; the day he and everyone who had ever known the vibrant and funny Jack Crusher, had to admit that he was gone. For Jean-Luc Picard, who had witnessed Jack's death personally, and had continually relived Jack's horrifying last moments, he had finally found himself in a situation he was unable to face. A part of him, from that day on, wanted only to escape from the emotions, the pain, even the joy and laughter he had experienced as a result of being Jack's friend. Looking back, he had been largely successful in that regard. He had escaped back to his career, back to a long-known solitary life. But the one thing that had stayed with him nagging him through all these years was the guilt; the guilt of surviving, and for not having done enough to save jack from dying.

Most of all, he remembered _her_. There was no need to say her name in his head, because she was always there whether he wanted it or not. After the funeral, he had tried to leave without her knowing, but she caught him outside on the street. She had demanded answers. If he had expected her to be a demure and grieving widow, he should have known better. She was angry, and it seemed, she was angry at him in particular.

Because he was so angry at himself, he did not feel her words. In fact in those moments his own difficulty feeling anything seemed to be a shield against any hurtful words she could throw at him. And in a strange and perverse way he noticed that she was the most beautiful she had ever been, and that he was even more attracted to her now, as she shouted at him with tears and rain streaming down her face.

"_Tell me what happened, Jean-Luc. I deserve to know the truth!"_

_Of course she did. But a dying Jack had forbidden it…."It was an accident, Beverly."_

"_You already told me that when we were on Starbase 23."_

_He smoothed the short hair on top of his head, and tried to rub the rain from his eyes with wet hands. "It all happened so fast. It was all so quick—he didn't suffer," he told her dully._

_Her eyes were a fierce cobalt blue as she peered, seemingly, into his soul. She shook her head obstinately. "I don't believe you." The other guests were leaving Beverly and Jack's apartment. They hesitated, and it seemed to Picard out of the corner of his eye that they wanted to stay to pay their respects to Beverly, but they must not have wanted to intrude, and after a few moments, continued their departure._

_He shook his head again. "I'm so sorry, Beverly," he said, indeed feeling at that moment like the sorriest man who had ever existed. He tried to take her hands in his as a way to console her, when selfishly he knew he just wanted to feel her skin. "Jack was like family to me. After my parents died, __Jack-" he flinched as she interrupted him._

_Beverly Crusher jerked her hands away from him. "How dare you! Family? What do you know about family, Jean-Luc Picard? You left your family behind for a career in Starfleet and all you have left is a brother who can't stand the sight of you." Her fury was a sight to behold. "My parents died too, Jean-Luc, years ago. But I didn't abandon them."_

"_Is that what you think happened? That I abandoned my family? That I abandoned Jack?"_

_She exhaled, shivering with cold. "You tell me, Jean-Luc. I told you that I want to know the truth. You told me that he didn't suffer, but he did, didn't he?"_

"_No," he said flatly. _

"_Liar," she whispered. That word, and the way she said it, would always stay with him. She studied him for one more moment, but right then there was nothing left worth saying. What had just happened between them might never be reversed or repaired. With one last look at him, she turned and started back to her apartment._

_He watched her go and waited to leave until she had disappeared inside. It was only then that he noticed that the young boy, hardly four years old, was staring out the window at him._

* * *

**2364, Risa**

William T. Riker smiled to himself, feeling the sun gently warm his eyes through closed lids. The sun here was never too overbearing, for a sun of course. The air was warm, but not stifling. Over all, it was perhaps the most comfortable place in the galaxy. His smile widened as he silently reviewed the events of the past week.

Was she the most attractive woman on Risa? Well no, and she wasn't exactly the most available woman on the planet either. Actually the women on Risa, and for that matter, the men too, were as a rule available to any visitor interested in a good time. But Riker had always enjoyed a challenge. He hadn't anticipated that the woman's significant other would have caught them in the act, or that he was an intergalactic crime boss, but that hadn't stopped Riker. And, he told himself, it had all been worth it.

It was the afternoon of his last day on shore leave. In less than a week he would embark on his new assignment. He was excited—to say the least. He would be serving aboard the _USS Enterprise D_, which he'd heard was still partly under construction. It was one of only a handful of Galaxy Class starships, mammoth ships built for exploration. Riker, currently serving aboard the _USS Hood_ as First Officer, had just turned down a Captaincy with the _USS Drake_. While some wondered out loud why he hadn't snatched up the _Drake_, Riker was smart enough to know that he was about to make history being second command on the ship that many believed would lead he rest of the fleet. Certainly, the name _Enterprise_ carried a special history no one could deny.

There was another reason he wanted to serve aboard the Enterprise. As soon as he had heard that Jean-Luc Picard returned from commanding a run-down scout ship on the far rim in order to command the Enterprise, Riker had wanted this assignment. Jean-Luc Picard, now 47 years old, had not only made Captain before he was 30, but had quite a storied past. It was known that he had survived at least two court martials, and been involved in some serious combat. Most recently, nine years ago, he'd lost his ship, the Stargazer, during which he used a most ingenious tactic to save his ship and crew, which was later deemed unsalvageable. It had been all that was talked about in 2355, Riker's third year at the academy. As a kid, he couldn't help but be impressed. That tactic, known as the "Picard Maneuver", was now regularly being studied at the Academy by wide-eyed cadets.

Riker was excited for the opportunity to serve under Picard, despite the fact that he was known to be an exacting commanding officer and a difficult person to get to know. Riker's love for a challenge perhaps extended to his desire to crack the nut that was Jean-Luc Picard, and hopefully learn something in the process.

Riker's mind drifted back to his love of...well love, and he entered a very pleasant half dream state thinking about the last few days. He yawned. There was really no rush to return to the _Hood_ just yet. He was so drowsy that he felt the tug on his shirt before he heard the thundering footsteps. His eyes snapped open to see Boldo, the unhappy boyfriend of Mena, Riker's latest fling. "Ahh!" Riker yelled, mostly out of alarm.

"Raahr!" Boldo shouted back. He was a humongous purple creature. The female of his species certainly had been blessed with the good looks. It was clear also that although speaking two different languages, Boldo and Riker understood each other perfectly: that is, Boldo wanted to kill Riker, and Riker did not want to die. Grabbing his badge beside him on the lounge chair, he was just able to squeak, "This is Riker, one to beam up," before Boldo's huge hands tightened around his throat. In that instant, he shimmered away, with a very happy grin on his face.


	2. Chapter 2

**Demons, Part 1, Chapter 2**

**2364 Vulcan**

"T'Pel, daughter of Suvok, do you seek to attain the pure form, the Kolinahr?"

T'Pel stood silently, for she sensed that the correct answer was to not seek or to avoid Kolinahr. These emotions were not logical.

The Priestess paused before speaking again. "T'Pel of Vulcan, you have completed the five rites and the desert trial. You have achieved supreme dominance over your inner-self, such that you will be influenced by no other being. To do these things alone or in the monastic order is admirable, however you will be tested further when you re-enter the world of emotional, undisciplined beings. Many tasks remain for you to complete. Do you accept this challenge, T'Pel of Vulcan?"

"Yes," said T'Pel. According to the custom she bowed her head to allow the Priestess to place a huge stone and gem necklace around her neck. As she stood straight, She reflected that had she undergone this ceremony years ago, she would have failed. The emotions she held in those days would have consumed and overwhelmed her. Now, at the end of a four year study in the control of her emotions, she felt no turmoil, only calm.

* * *

**2364 San Francisco, Earth**

Beverly Crusher was deeply engrossed in an endless saga of cleaning, throwing away miscellaneous items, and packing. Very soon, she and her teenage son Wesley would depart Earth for life aboard a starship. At first she had been hesitant to throw herself into the task. First of all, she hated packing. Secondly, a part of her wondered if this would even work out. She told herself to give it a few months, and if it was completely intolerable, she and Wesley would simply leave, and transfer back to Earth. She had already been told by higher ups at Starfleet Medical that a position would be waiting for her, if she changed her mind.

If Wesley hadn't been so excited, she might have reconsidered. But Wesley was special, and a unique intellect required a unique kind of education. Having spent six months on a starship early in her career, she knew the benefits and wonders of exploration. She also knew the dangers, but she felt confident that Wesley would be as safe as possible on this particular ship. There were also other things she wanted for Wesley, things she was not yet willing to acknowledge were also things that she wanted for herself.

She felt extremely mixed emotions leaving this apartment behind. It was the home she had shared with Jack, and for the past ten years she had raised her son in it as a single mother. Now she would use it only on shore leave or when the _Enterprise_ visited Earth. The anticipation of seeing the ship for the first time made her smile.

The door chimed. "Dammit," she hissed. If there was one thing she hated more than packing for a trip it was being interrupted while doing so. One had to be focused for such a mundane and infuriating task. Her door was equipped with an older model identification panel. The visitor touched a groove in the door, or knocked if they wanted to be archaic about it and if the person was recognized as a known or frequent visitor a chime sounded and a holograph of the visitor appeared just inside the door. The door chimed again. She glanced at the holograph. It was certainly a familiar face. "Yes, come in," she said somewhat testily.

In strolled Walker Keel looking better than ever and it was clear he had something up his proverbial sleeve. He also had his arm draped over the shoulders of Wesley Crusher. "Well look who I found outside. Your little genius," announced Walker.

Wesley scowled up at him with carefully manufactured angst. Walker responded by ruffling the boy's hair which further irritated the teen. Wes gave a half pleading look to his mother. Beverly rolled her eyes as if to say "I'm not getting involved".

Walker, who had been on extended leave from his ship the _Horatio_ for the past two months, had been a true friend of Beverly Crusher's since she was just out of her teens. She knew Walker before she knew Jack and Jean-Luc, in fact without Walker, she might never have met either of them. Over the years he'd been the only person, man or woman that she could really rely on, and for that she would always be grateful. Despite her deep affection for Walker, he could be a bit much sometimes. First of all, he was a natural politician, and could talk you in to, or out of anything. While she trusted him, she knew he'd had some adventures through the years which involved keeping the secrets of Starfleet Intelligence, and that meant he'd made more enemies than he let on.

"Hi, Walker." Beverly looked up and then went back to what she'd been doing. Walker was notoriously slow to get to the point, in part because he loved to talk, and she knew if she waited long enough he would explain why he'd come. Walker stopped teasing her son long enough to catch her gaze again and indicate with his expression that this wasn't only a social visit.

Crusher straightened and put her hands on her hips. "Wes have you started packing yet? We've only got a few weeks left."

Wesley shrugged. "I don't know."

"Come on, snap to it," she said in a mock dangerous voice.

Wesley shuffled out of the room without another word.

"I thought he was excited to leave," remarked Walker.

Crusher looked at him. "Walker, he's fourteen. He's hot and cold."  
Now that they were alone, Walker shifted from one foot to another.  
"What's going on Walker?" Crusher pressed.  
"Command is just ecstatic about your appointment Beverly."

"You could have fooled me. I had to go through three different interview panels just to get the position. For a bunch of ecstatic people they certainly made me work for it. "

"And your hard work paid off as usual." He paused.  
She raised an eyebrow. "Have you just decided to patronize me all day or do you have a point?  
Walker grinned. "Have I mentioned how gorgeous you look today?"

Beverly flushed with embarrassed amusement and annoyance. "Oh Walker, _please_ get to the point. As you can see I've got a several hundred material things to sort through here and I'd like to finish before dinner."

Walker frowned but muttered "fair enough" as he began to pace around the living room. Finally he halted. "He doesn't know yet," he said suddenly.

She dropped a book she was dusting off and folded her arms over her chest. "_Who_doesn't know what?" She said, although she knew full well who "he" was, just by the tone of her friend's voice.

"Jean-Luc doesn't know you are coming aboard as CMO." He watched as ten different emotions at once seemed to flutter over Beverly's face.

"And why not?"

"To put it bluntly, Beverly, no one wants to deal with this issue. So they've sent me to do the job."

"This issue? The job? Walker, what on earth are you talking about?"

"Well the consensus is that he is not going to take it well that you have been assigned to the Enterprise."

To his surprise she began to laugh. "Not going to take it well? Is he a child or a starship captain? Look, Walker, you and I both know Jean-Luc Picard, and if there is one thing he pays attention to, it is his duty. Once he has his orders he'll be fine." She picked up the book again.

"He has the right to veto, you know."

"And what makes you think that he would? In any case, I would certainly have a right to challenge his veto, wouldn't I?"

Walker sighed. "Yes."

Crusher shrugged. "This is not my problem, Walker. And you're not going to make me believe that it is." She tossed the book to him, which he caught with some effort.

"Okay, just do me a favor," he called after her as she exited the room. "Don't say anything to him before I tell him."

Slowly she walked back into the room, and fixed him with a baffled expression. "Walker, I haven't seen him in eight years, and we didn't exactly leave on the best of terms."

"Yes, I recall," he said drily. The scene of their most recent meeting had been at Walker's birthday party eight years previously, and her description of that meeting was kind of an understatement, he noted to himself.

"So under what set of circumstances would I would run into him and casually mention that I will be joining his ship?"

Walker scratched his head. "I see your point."

* * *

**Three Weeks later…**

Jean-Luc Picard sat with perfect posture at a small table in his hotel. The early afternoon sun was beginning to heat up and as it streamed through the window, it warmed the side of his face. An empty bowl of soup sat next to his elbow. In one hand he loosely held a cup of hot tea, while his other hand tapped at the small computer screen in front of him as the latest Starfleet Command communique streamed in. All the time he had spent out on the outer rim guarding the borders of the federation in the _Shark_ had involved few communiques from Starfleet.

The _Shark_ had been a swift but run-down little scout ship. It was certainly about ten steps down from the Stargazer or any other starship for that matter; hardly a prime command. In fact no one had believed he was in his right mind when he had sought out the assignment. Perhaps they were right. But it was what he needed to set his life in order, such as it was. And the anonymity didn't hurt either. In fact it had been all he had wanted after facing court martial first for losing his best friend and second officer, then the_ Stargazer_ the following year.

He sighed and harrumphed a bit to himself as the long message from Command continued to drone on. He hadn't missed the beauracracy -not one damn bit. He frowned and then re-read the end of the message, almost disbelievingly. Was he finally going to receive his bridge and command officer roster? In less than a week he would be shipping out on the Enterprise for the first time, and for over one month he had been kept in the dark as to both the crew complement and the officers who would be serving with him. At first he had been annoyed, but one month later he was simply bored with waiting.

The only thing that had saved him was his daily routine. In the mornings he went for a run. Then he made his way to Command to review any news regarding the continuing construction of his new ship and to catch up on the daily news briefs from around the Federation. Then he would return to his apartment for a bit of reading and more exercise. Just minutes ago he had finished his last set of pushups for the day. Later in the afternoon he would work out with the Academy wrestling team and then perhaps go for a quick swim.

Now it appeared that Command would interrupt his routine tomorrow morning. His superiors now requested that he present at headquarters the next day after undergoing his final physical before shipping out. He was more than excited to learn of his crew assignments and hoped he would not be put at a disadvantage for having not been notified sooner.

* * *

When Picard walked into the briefing room, he was not surprised in the slightest to see Walker Keel. He and Walker had spent some time together over the last month. That walker was his good friend would never change. However, Picard had on several occasions during the last month struggled to keep his annoyance in check. He highly suspected that Walker knew a good deal more about his new assignment on the _Enterprise_ than he did.

He was slightly early, he noted, glancing at a nearby clock. He sat down next to Walker, and placed his data pad on the table. "Where is everyone?" he asked Walker, who was busy studying something on his own computer screen.

"Oh, it's just me," said Walker casually. "I'm briefing you." He looked up to see Picard's eyebrows furrowed together, which was never a good sign.

"You're briefing me…Walker, this is highly irregular. We're the same rank, for goodness sake."

Walker shrugged innocently. "Nevertheless…alright, so first, the mission." Picard continued to glare at him, but Picard did slowly pick up his data pad, and held it at the ready, as Walker began speaking. "We have a potentially incendiary situation brewing between two of the founding cultures of the Federation. There is no way to illustrate how disastrous it would be if these two planets came to blows. About two months ago-and the details are still sketchy on this—a small group of radical Vulcans calling themselves the Redeemers left the planet Vulcan on a cargo ship. The data indicates that they were on some kind of religious pilgrimage that involved the Romulans."

"Radical Vulcans? How odd. Were they traveling to Romulus?" asked Picard.

Walker shook his head. "We don't know. But we do know that they never made it there. Instead, it appears that an Andorian sentry ship engaged the Redeemer ship in battle near the Andorian home world, of Andor."

"Who was the aggressor?"

"We don't know that either, Jean-Luc. What we do know is that the Vulcan ship was crippled, and was forced to crash land on a moon inhabited by Andorian colonists. After that, everything is in dispute."

"What do you mean?"

"According to the Andorians the entire colony was wiped out."

Picard was horrified. "Vulcans are a disciplined and largely peaceful people. I can't believe that—"

"Some or all of the Vulcan adults were killed as well, and the belief is that the children of the Vulcans somehow commandeered a ship and escaped the moon."

"And the Enterprise has been dispatched to locate these…missing children?"

"Yes, preferably before the Andorians do. And because of the urgency, you are to leave in two days, which I recognize is a change of plans. Enterprise is now in orbit, and ready for its first mission."

"I am forwarding you all of the files available," added Walker, tapping at his pad. "All of this talk of children has reminded me of the next topic I was asked to cover, Captain," Walker said with a small smile. "The crew complement of this ship is just over 1000 people, as you are aware." Picard nodded. "And, Starfleet has asked me to inform you that there will be families aboard."

Picard stood up slowly, palms on the table. "By families, I am sure you mean couples…of course we can't prevent our officers from having relationships-"

"No, Jean-Luc, I mean families with children."

"This is absurd," said Picard, showing his first signs of anger. "We might be going into battle...well you know yourself, Walker. The dangers are too many to name. I don't agree with this," he muttered, cursing under his breath. He sat back down and looked at Walker with an air of defeat and reluctance acceptance. "So, I am presuming this is why they sent you to brief me?"

"Well, there is the list of bridge and command officers we need to go over. I suggest you get ready to take some notes."


	3. Chapter 3

**2364 Uninhabited Moon near Andor**

Ja'nel was afraid. For many weeks he had hidden his clan on a moon that was barely habitable. He was accustomed to desert living but this atmosphere was thin, not like the dense air of Vulcan. The rations were few, and the water scarce. He and T'kal, the older girl had tried hunting but had caught nothing.  
There were few water sources at least in the region in which they had crashed. Thar, the most mechanically inclined of all of them was charged with repairing the cargo ship. Thar was smart but he had limited resources. Without a working ship he and the others would have no means of escape. And he would be unable to keep the young ones concealed from the Outworlders for much longer.

* * *

**2364 San Francisco, Earth**

The next few minutes, as Walker began to run through the bridge and command officers posted to the _Enterprise_, Picard calmed down considerably. He was pleased to learn that William Riker had been assigned to the ship. He had heard impressive things about the _Hood's_ first officer. There was a concern, however. "Why did he turn down his own command? He's been one of the more ambitious officers."

"The reason he provided is that he wanted to serve under you. You won't be let down, Jean-Luc. He may be ambitious, but that is far overshadowed by his sense of loyalty. However, he has been described as territorial by his current Captain with regard to conducting away team missions. Riker is of the philosophy that ship's Captains should not be put at risk just to beam down to every shitty planet, unless their presence is necessary."

"Yes, as long as he understands it is the Captain who decides whether his presence is necessary, I suppose I can muddle through."

Walker smiled. "Expect some resistance."

Picard shrugged and looked down at his data pad. "Next, we have Lt. Commander Data, second officer." He looked up suddenly. "I've heard of this officer. How absolutely remarkable." He scanned the file further. "He's been in Starfleet nearly 20 years…and yet he is only a Lt. Commander." He frowned. "Walker, Commander Data has been decorated on several occasions. Has anyone looked into why he hasn't been promoted more frequently?"

"If I had to guess, there is still some hesitance about having an android command a Starship, or even to be first officer. So, despite his capabilities, they've kept the training wheels on Mr. Data, so to speak."

"Then by 'hesitance', you mean prejudice. Yes, I can read between the lines, Walker. Next," he said.

"Chief of Security, Lt. Natasha Yar," said Walker.

"Oh yes," said Picard, clearly pleased. "I had asked for Lt. Yar to be assigned. About a year ago, the _Shark_ was called to assist on a rescue mission on Carnelia. Yar rescued one of the colonists by crawling through a minefield. She showed no fear. I only met her briefly, but when you first told me about the _Enterprise_ being commissioned, I immediately thought of her."

"Yes, she is perfectly suited to your command style. Great attention to duty, follows orders to the letter…troubled background. Perfect for you."

"What do you mean, 'troubled'?"

"Put simply, she grew up in a hell hole. The result however is a finely tuned officer, who will show you the utmost loyalty."

"Moving on," said Picard. He frowned. This couldn't be right. "Lt. Commander Deanna Troi. A ship's counselor on my bridge crew? Whose idea was this?"

Walker laughed. "Look, Starfleet wants counselors on the bridge on all Galaxy Class starships. They want to see whether there is a positive effect on the crew in times of stress. Think of it as a pilot program."

"The last thing I am interested in during battle is getting in touch with my feelings," Picard snapped.

"Don't worry, Jean-Luc, you're safe. In order to get in touch with your feelings, you have to have them in the first place." Picard fixed his friend with an icy stare.

"Besides," said Walker. "Troi isn't just a counselor, she has empathic skills; not quite telepathic, but it could come in handy in certain situations, don't you think?"

Picard grunted, and looked down at his data pad, which Walker knew from experience did not signal his approval. As Picard continued to read, his eyebrows continued to rise. Walker noted that if he'd had a hairline, they would have disappeared behind it.

"I must admit, I did not expect a Klingon bridge crew member, although I am intrigued."

"I thought you might be, given your history with Klingons. Worf is different though. He was raised by humans for most of his life. He will be your primary relief officer at the Conn and Ops, and he also appears to know tactical systems quite well."

"Excellent," said Picard. He began reading again then looked up at Walker questioningly. "My helmsman has a visual prosthesis..." Picard slowly put the data pad down on the table with a click. "Walker is my new ship's pilot blind? "

"No...he has corrected vision. In fact it is so corrected that he can see better than we do. At least in the infrared and ultraviolet spectrums. And he's an excellent pilot and technician."

"Well I am familiar with visor technology, but there are implants that could replace his visor."

"Yes, well according to his personnel record he is not interested in replacing his visor," Walker replied. "Jean-Luc…as with Troi, I hope you will recognize the extra abilities your crew has."

Picard sighed and shook his head.

"And the Chief Medical Officer?"

"Doctor Beverly Crusher," said Walker as smoothly as possible.

Picard fell silent. The air in the room was suddenly suffocating. "I see," he said. As he stared at his friend, it was clear that Picard was increasingly disturbed by this announcement. "Walker, why on earth would she request a position on my ship? The woman _hates_ me," he suddenly blurted out.

"Jean-Luc, Beverly doesn't hate you, trust me."

"Trust you? You're the one who kept this from me for weeks!"

"Actually I was ordered to do so."

"No doubt that is supposed to make me feel better. There must be some kind of mistake here. Is she aware that I am the Captain?"

"Yes, in fact I think that is why she applied for the position."

Picard realized his mouth was hanging open awkwardly, and clamped it shut. "Walker, the woman—"

"A little advice; if you want to come to terms with having her aboard your ship, you may want to stop referring to her as "the woman". I don't think she's going to respond well to that title. This is real, Jean-Luc, and you're going to have to face some of your demons."

Picard placed his hands on the table and stood up. Gathering his composure, he said, "Is that the entire list of bridge crew and command?"

"Yes. Listen, Jean-Luc, if you would like to talk about this—"

"No, I wouldn't," he snapped. "I have my orders, and I will carry them out. Now, let's talk further about this mission." He sat down, hands folded, and looked at Walker with as placid expression as he could manage.

* * *

"How is it possible that mere children could evade a whole fleet of Andorian ships searching for them?"

"That is certainly the primary mystery here, Jean-Luc, at least right now." Walker looked up as the door to the briefing room swished open. He didn't seem the least bit surprised to see a hooded figure dressed in robes glide into the briefing room. Picard was not as trusting as Walker, and stood up abruptly to face the new visitor.

"Lucky for us, we were able to secure a Vulcan consultant to accompany you on your mission, Captain," Walker said with a smile

As he spoke, the visitor pulled away the hood, to reveal an old friend. "T'Pel!" Picard did not even try to hide his astonishment at seeing one of his oldest colleagues standing before him. He hadn't seen her in at least six years, and yet here she was.

"Captain," the Vulcan woman acknowledged him with a slight head nod. Her face was absent of emotion. He knew from experience that Vulcans had emotions just like humans; the difference was their ability to control their emotions to comport with their philosophy, placing logic above all else. When he had known her before, she had been disciplined of course, but there was something new.

"I must correct you, Captain Keel. I am not a 'consultant'. I am however an emissary from the Vulcan High Council. The Council has charged me with bringing the Redeemer children back to Vulcan; if possible, alive and unharmed." Her tone was matter-of-fact. She had a job and she did not expect to fail. Picard noted that her beautiful features were more angular than they had been, and her face more weathered, although she was still young in Vulcan years. Her skin had darkened, no doubt the result of the hot Vulcan sun.

Walker smiled tightly. "Well, as long as our purposes are the same, we should have no problem carrying out the mission."

T'Pel raised an eyebrow. "Perhaps you would qualify that statement?"

"I mean that Starfleet is concerned with averting a war between the Andorians and your home world."

"Even if that means delivering the Vulcan children to the Andorians?"

Walker stood up, and his expression had grown very serious. "We'll have to cross that bridge when we come to it."

"Human metaphors aside, you appear to be questioning my loyalty," said T'Pel.

"Well, you did leave Starfleet almost ten years ago—"

"Walker!" Picard held up his hand. "I don't like where this conversation is headed."

T'Pel seemed unfazed. "You are correct, Captain Keel. I did leave Starfleet, for reasons which are documented in my personnel file. And since I am no longer a Starfleet Officer, your questions about my loyalty are illogical. I will assist the mission as long as I am allowed to carry out my duty to protect the children."

Walker eyed Picard. Walker acknowledged to himself that the more he pressed the issue, the more likely he was to affect the mission negatively. Walker nodded. "We appreciate any assistance you can provide."

T'Pel bowed, and turned to exit the room. Picard shot Walker a glance and followed her down the corridor.

* * *

Picard and T'Pel stood and faced each other once they emerged into the bright sunshine of the courtyard. "T'Pel," Picard ventured. "I know it has been a long time since we've seen each other. I certainly didn't think we would meet in this way…but I am glad to see you."

T'Pel remained silent for a few more moments. "For five years I have been on the journey of Kolinahr. My mind is untroubled and free from the emotions of gladness which you express. I sense in you a great restlessness, Captain. You long for the past, and yet you hope that the future will not cause you so much pain."

Picard smiled sadly. She knew him very well. Of course, when they had known each other all of those years ago, they had been not only colleagues, but lovers. That is, they had been lovers until it had become clear to T'Pel that she was a replacement for someone else. At least, she had told him as much. For a time, he had believed that T'Pel had cared deeply for him, even loved him. He did not think he had loved her, but they had formed a strong physical and emotional bond. Vulcan telepathy, he guessed, had made his feelings for her quite intense and intimate. And, to her credit, when she broke it off with him, she was not bitter, nor did she seem to change in her professionalism or her outward respect for him.

He could remember almost as clear as it was yesterday, denying his love for Beverly Crusher, to T'Pel, the only person he had known who had directly confronted him about his feelings for Beverly. He had always admitted to himself that felt a strong attraction to Beverly, perhaps at times, even an obsession. Because of the circumstances he had told himself so long ago that this attraction could never become anything more. That had been years ago.

"I am impressed that you have achieved Kolinhar," he said, coming back to the present. He knew something of the Vulcan ritual, which could last years. Its purpose was to perfect the Vulcan's mastery of their emotions, particularly primal ones.

"I am still to be tested. In fact, perhaps meeting you again, is my first test."

Picard had no idea how to respond to that, so he fell silent for a few moments. Unintentionally, he glanced down at her left hand. The last time he had seen her, she had been fitted with a temporary, robotic prosthetic arm. She had lost her left arm during the same incident in which Jack Crusher had lost his life. Picard had risked his own life to bring T'Pel to safety, but he hadn't been strong enough to do the same for Jack.

"You are staring at my arm," T'Pel calmly observed.

Picard's mouth was dry. He realized he had been drifting in thought. "I—I'm sorry. I suppose you are right. Perhaps I am too focused on the past. It's just that the last time I saw you…well I had wondered how you were recovering."

T'Pel raised her arm and looked at her hand as she flexed it. "I chose an advanced version of the robotic arm. I had the option of cloning, of course, but this has served me well. As you can see, the appearance is quite accurate."

"Yes, quite so." Picard had no idea what to say next, and prayed she would decide to leave.

"Captain, I will take my leave of you now. I will see you on board the Enterprise. And Captain, congratulations." She re-fitted her hood and walked away quickly.

* * *

A few minutes later, Walker Keel caught up with Picard walking through the Academy campus.

"I'm worried about you my friend. You've been living like a hermit. Constant exercise and reading are no substitute for human companionship."

"I'm fine, Walker," said Picard, sounding bored.

"When was the last time you were with a woman anyway?" Walker asked.

Picard slowed a bit, but didn't stop walking. "My, we're getting a bit personal aren't we?"

"Okay, when was your last meaningful relationship?"

"Define 'meaningful', Walker. After all, you are onto your fourth divorce now, aren't you?" He couldn't help taking a shot at Walker's own personal life, given the topic of conversation. However, it was true: Walker had been married four times and was currently undergoing his fourth divorce proceeding.

Walker stopped abruptly, and for a quick moment, he wondered if he should duck, in case Walker was angry about his last comment. But Walker actually laughed loudly. "Wait, was it that Orion pirate woman, you picked up?" he snapped his fingers. "What was her name?"

"Neela," Picard grumbled. "Although to call my…encounter with her 'meaningful' is to stretch the definition considerably," he added.

Walker seemed exasperated. "My point is, Jean-Luc, is that you have relationship issues. And you need to get rid of some of this baggage, if you want a friendship with Beverly. You do want to be her friend, don't you?"

Picard halted. "Walker, have you been in contact with her?" His eyes searched Walker's face accusingly. Walker's face remained blank, but Picard could tell he was hiding something. "You know," said Picard. "I think we're done with this conversation. I will see you in two days when we ship out."

* * *

As annoyed as Picard was with Walker, he knew he had been isolating himself from other people ever since he'd accepted his _Enterprise_ post. Calling him a hermit was not entirely inaccurate. He didn't know why. He'd always been a reserved person, but over the last ten years, he knew he had been damaged by the death of Jack Crusher and the loss of his ship. He knew that both events had caused him to isolate himself more than ever, and he knew he had to change that. How to change it, he had no idea, because part of being a commanding officer was isolation.

It was on this premise, of starting anew, that he decided to stop in at a bar that evening for a drink. He hadn't had a drink in two months, because he had been trying to condition himself physically. But, he told himself, why not indulge a bit now, just before shipping out?

The ambiance of the bar was nothing special. It was mostly Starfleet personnel stopping in between assignments or Academy cadets and professors out to socialize. He sat down at a table in a corner, an isolated one, and ordered a beer and a sandwich. As he sipped, his eyes traveled the room casually. Seeing it was safe and he knew no one in the bar, he began to eat, knowing he would be undisturbed. For some reason, at that moment, he glanced toward the door.

That was when he saw her walk in. She was with a man, probably a medical colleague, he thought; not that it was any of his business. Forgetting that he had not swallowed, he choked slightly, and then drank the rest of the beer just to keep from having a coughing fit. He felt his eyes were glued to her and couldn't look away. It had been something like seven or eight years, but she just never seemed to age. Or rather, she improved with age.

He stopped staring, and sipped his water. Unable to even focus on drinking water, he nervously rubbed his hands on his pants, wondered if he should just leave. Deciding he should, he stood up. The silverware clattered to the floor, and he picked it up angrily. As he placed it back on the table, he saw that she was staring at him. He felt something like a bolt of electricity activating something in his brain that had been dormant since he had seen her last. She didn't smile, but she didn't look like she hated him either. If anything, she appeared uncertain whether to say anything. She glanced at her friend, to whom she said something quietly, and then the man turned to look at Picard, and smiled. Without another thought, Picard turned on his heel and walked out of the bar as confidently as possible.


	4. Chapter 4

Part 1, Chapter 4

Lt. junior grade Geordi LaForge waited patiently at Space Dock for the shuttle to pick him up. Space dock was under re-construction, and so the Enterprise and any other ships in orbit were unable to dock there, at least temporarily. Consequently, shuttles had been making runs all day from space dock to the Enterprise which was now orbiting the Earth. It was an incredibly beautiful sight. So, although he had been waiting for nearly an hour, he wouldn't have minded gazing at the ship all day from the outside. But the problem was, he actually had to be somewhere. A crisis near Andor had apparently arisen, requiring the Enterprise crew to embark on their maiden voyage a bit sooner than anyone had expected. Geordi, had no idea what was in store, but for his part, he was ecstatic. He had memorized the schematics for the new ship after reading them over and over. How much this would help him helming the ship, he had no idea, but there was always the possibility of transfer or even the chance for promotion in a few years, he supposed. If so, he needed to expand his knowledge in order to be useful to the Captain.

He'd met Picard a few years ago on a shuttle run during an inspection, but frankly doubted if the man remembered him at all. Picard was known to have intimidated many young officers, and Geordi's plan was, wherever possible, to simply stay out of his way. Of course, LaForge's position as a bridge officer, might make that plan completely unrealistic, but he simply wouldn't know until he tried. He felt some comfort that Commander Riker would be transferring over from the _USS_ _Hood_ with him. Although he didn't know Riker well personally, at least he would have a familiar face, and a higher up who was familiar with his work record.

He turned at the sound of several pairs of footsteps behind him. Even through the filter of his visor, he could see in an instant that each figure was distinctly different from the other. They were in fact, three different species. The first figure he scanned was tall and broad shouldered with a distinctly large cranium. His bone structure was too sturdy to be a human. The figure in the middle was much shorter and slim but athletic; a very attractive human woman. The third figure almost stumped him, until he analyzed this person's infrared signature. This person registered far lower on the thermal radiation scale than the other two individuals. Analyzing his circulatory system showed not only an absence of human blood, but what fluids there were de-oxygenated. If the person weren't walking toward him, Geordi would have guessed he was deceased. That is, except for a glowing aura around the figure's body which told Geordi the person was very alive.

Geordi smiled as the three approached. "Hi," he said cheerfully. "I'm Geordi. Uh," he turned at as the warm glow of radiation from the shuttle surrounded him. "Here's our ride."

The woman approached Geordi, and he smiled sunnily again. It appeared she was not impressed. "Name and rank," she said icily.

Geordi's smile faded and he stood up straighter at attention. "Lt. J.G. Geordi LaForge reporting for duty at the helm, sir."

The woman nodded briskly. "Chief of Security, Tasha Yar. Nice to meet you," she added, just as professionally.

Now slightly off his game, and not sure how to approach the other two officers, Geordi relaxed a bit, but adopted a more formal stance than was normal for him. The large man nodded.

"I am Lt. J.G. Worf. I _hope_ that it will be an honor to serve with you on the bridge," he said to Geordi with a deep rumble. Geordi nodded, not exactly sure how to take that statement.

He turned to the third of his new companions. "Hello, Lieutenant LaForge. I am Lt. Commander Data, Second Officer. I am pleased to meet you. May I ask you what frequency you are viewing me on through your visor?"

Geordi grinned. "Infrared. But in ultraviolet, you really glow."

Data looked perplexed, but said "thank you".

Geordi noticed Lt. Yar's heat index was beginning to rise. "Sir," she said to Data with barely held patience. "I think we should be going now." Data nodded and they began to board the shuttle.

* * *

Captain Picard sat in his new Ready Room with a new sense of awe. He was glad to be the only command officer on board at the moment, because he was nearly overwhelmed by the elegance of his new ship. Aside from the two Chief Engineers, Sarah MacDougal and Donald Argyle who had both been bothering him regularly about the unfinished warp drive tests, he had been left alone.

With the other crew members and families gradually streaming on board, he was able to allow himself to come to terms with this new responsibility. Of course, he had commanded other ships before, but they had been gritty utilitarian vessels, that didn't always function as you wanted them to. This ship was something else entirely. He had the impression that if he said the right words to it, it might be able to oblige.

But very quickly, he had gotten down to business. A few minutes earlier he had received a call from T'Pel, who had indicated she wanted to talk further about the mission. "Come," he said, responding to a chime. T'Pel entered, still dressed in civilian Vulcan garb but something less monk-like than when he had seen her on Earth. He stood and offered her a seat. "Care for some tea?"

"No thank you, Captain," she said, sitting down gracefully. He sat back down, and waited expectantly for her to speak. "Captain, there are some things you need to know before you embark on this mission."

"Oh?" Apparently she hadn't felt comfortable sharing this information with Walker, but then the tension between his two old friends had been obvious.

"You have heard the term 'Redeemers', have you not?"

"Yes, this is the group of children we are looking for. Aside from that, I have had difficulty finding much about the Redeemers in the Vulcan news service."

T'Pel nodded. "Information about the Redeemers has been deliberately suppressed by the Vulcan High Council. There is…concern that the Redeemers represent potential chaos, and a threat to the fabric of Vulcan Society. The Redeemers are what Humans might refer to as 'religious zealots'."

Picard was somewhat shocked. "I didn't know such a thing existed in Vulcan society," he said.

"Neither did most Vulcans until just less than an earth year ago. The redeemers made their home deep in the desert, away from any population centers. Prior to fleeing Vulcan several months ago, the Redeemers were a group numbering just under thirty, led by an unusually powerful telepath named Ra'Val. Unlike most Vulcans where telepathic powers are strongest through touch, Ra'Val was able to not only reach the mind through thought but could control the minds of others as well. Ra'Val advocated a return to the use of emotion, as opposed to the subjugation of it to logic. In fact, he preached the irrelevance of logic; a position opposite to that of traditional Vulcan doctrine. Ra'Val seemed obsessed with re-unification of the Vulcan and Romulan societies, but his writings seem to indicate he wanted the Romulans to succumb to Vulcan rule."

"Now I understand your reference to religious zealotry. It seems an extreme position for any Vulcan to hold," said Picard. "It also seems completely unrealistic. The Federation hasn't had meaningful contact from the Romulans for over fifty years, since the signing of the Treaty of Algeron," he added. "We've no idea whether the Romulans would be interested in unifying any segment of Vulcan society."

"Whether or not the Redeemers were attempting to travel to Romulus is not known, and if Ra'Val and the other adults are now dead, the motive for leaving Vulcan may no longer be necessary to know."

"If Ra'Val and the other adults were killed on the Andorian moon, why are the Andorians seeking them out? Surely they are not going to kill, or even try or convict young children."

"Captain, I would normally agree, however, the extent of the death toll in the Andorian colony may have caused the Andorian perspective to become more extreme. It is imperative that we reach the children before the Andorians." T'Pel sat back in her chair, relaxing her posture a bit and folded her hands.

Picard sipped his tea with a worried expression. "How could these children possibly have kept themselves hidden for this long? In fact, we have no idea whether they are even still alive."

"The Redeemer children are not typical of children you might have met during your life, Captain. They may be unusually self-sufficient, as they are used to surviving with very little."

Picard shrugged. "I won't pretend to know anything about children, T'Pel, but I still find this situation difficult to comprehend." He paused. "At any rate, I am grateful to have you along on this one."

T'Pel glanced around the room with subdued interest. "The Galaxy Class starship is quite elegant," she observed.

"Hmm," he agreed. "It's very different from the _Stargazer_, isn't it?"

"Yes," she said. "It seems this ship represents the future of Starfleet. And yet, as we embark on this journey we may be forced to confront our pasts."

Picard frowned. "I'm assuming you are talking about you and me meeting again."

"Perhaps," she said. She paused a moment more before speaking again. "Is it true that Beverly Crusher will be joining this crew as well?" Her tone was completely even.

"Yes," Picard said slowly, not sure why he suddenly felt so uneasy. He'd never been aware of any difficulty between T'Pel and Beverly, and for his own sake he hoped there wouldn't be any now.

T'Pel stood up. "That is most satisfactory," she said. "I have much to discuss with her. Captain," she said, bidding him goodbye. She turned and Picard watched T'Pel leave the room without another word. Once she had gone, his uneasiness remained.

* * *

Riker stepped, or rather jumped aboard one of the last shuttle craft to leave for the _Enterprise_, just before it lifted off. The shuttle, although large, was crammed with people, all of which appeared to be civilians. In fact, the only other person in uniform was the pilot. "Grab a seat sir, we are on our way," she said, and the shuttle began to take flight.

Stumbling forward, Riker grabbed a support to keep his tall lanky body from falling into a young girl, who was playing on the floor with a doll. So this was what it was going to be like to have families on a ship, he thought to himself. Reaching down he picked up the little girl, and locating her father, brought her to him. "Please keep her secured. This isn't a playground." The girl's father complied, but appeared insulted.

Glancing around for a seat himself, he saw the only empty spot was a corner seat that had apparently been avoided because it was just half the width of any other seat. He squeezed into it, next to a rather large elderly woman. The stuffy air inside the shuttle made him completely and instantly annoyed. He attempted to wiggle himself into the wall, to no avail.

He heard a snicker coming from across the aisle and instinctively jerked his head up to see who was laughing. If she hadn't been so gorgeous, he would have been more irritated, because clearly she thought his predicament was hilarious. She was a redhead, which always helped in his opinion. Sitting next to her was a skinny looking teenage boy who looked nervous as hell. Maybe, thought Riker, if he could convince the kid to move, he could get closer to the woman. Riker looked around for someone who might be the boy's mother, but saw no one. Unfortunately, the boy was too big to pick up and move out of the way, as he had done with the little girl.

He cleared his throat. "Hello." He leaned toward the woman with his most ingratiating smile. "I'm Will," he said smoothly. "I don't usually meet such beautiful women on shuttle trips." The teenager next to her made a groaning noise, which Riker ignored. "But then, I'm usually stuck with fellow officers," he added.

"Really," she said with a completely disinterested smile.

Riker flushed slightly at the rejection. "And you are…" he prompted.

"Beverly," she said, beginning to sound amused.

Riker frowned. Why did that sound familiar? Oh shit. "Beverly…Crusher? Chief Medical Officer Beverly Crusher?"

"That's me," said Crusher, returning to her disinterested expression, and rummaging for an item in her bag, which probably didn't exist. Riker smiled slightly with embarrassment and a touch of admiration. Apparently she had been playing a little game with him.

"Sorry," he said. "I didn't realize you would be so…"

"So…what?" She looked up at him with a suddenly deadpan expression.

"Okay, I'm going to try and start over," said Riker with an uncomfortable laugh. "I'm First Officer William Riker, and very pleased to meet you, Doctor." He held his hand out for her to shake, which she did, very firmly.

"Same here, Commander," she said. She gazed at the boy next to her with a small smile. "This is my son, Wesley."

Riker reddened, and now felt very silly. "Nice to meet you, Wesley." The boy appeared to be quite shy, and couldn't have been more than fourteen. "May I call you Wes?"

Wesley suddenly broke out into a big smile. "Yes, Commander, I mean sir." Riker noted there was a perceptive intelligence lurking behind the boy's anxiousness. He was more eager to see the ship, than probably anyone else on the shuttle, and in a sense Riker envied him for that.

Everyone's attention was suddenly caught by the shuttle's approach to the Enterprise. The ship hung majestically in space and to everyone on the shuttle it was a breathtaking moment. Tearing himself away, he glanced at Dr. Crusher, who was straining to look out of the portal and appeared to be as enraptured as anyone else.

"You know, I've heard that Captain Picard can be a bit difficult," he said trying to sound casual. She turned to look at him with a slightly surprised expression. He knew that ship's doctors and captains didn't always get along well, and Riker hoped to gain an ally in Crusher… just in case.

"You don't say," said Crusher sounding a bit shocked. "How so?"

"Well, I don't know if you're familiar with his history…"

"Go on," Crusher prompted almost sweetly.

"Well he's known to be a bit stiff," said Riker in hushed tones. Crusher looked as though she'd never heard such a thing.

"He's scary," Wesley suddenly blurted out. Crusher glanced at her son and then rolled her eyes. Riker looked at her sharply.

Now it was his turn to be annoyed. He glared at Crusher. "Are you serious? You know him?" Riker cursed himself. How many more missteps could he expect to make before the day was over? And yet, Crusher seemed to be very amused at all of the stupid assumptions he was making. And if she knew Picard, how many more things about Picard's career was he unaware of? He prided himself on knowing his commanding officers inside and out, but here, he decided he might be at a decided disadvantage. And so far, the only thing he could count on Crusher to do was to make him feel foolish. She was going to be an interesting one, no doubt.

Wesley looked at his mother for permission. She shrugged, as if to indicate her indifference to the subject matter. But, Riker wondered, if she was a little too indifferent for it to be sincere.

"Captain Picard served with my father. After my father died in an accident, we only saw Captain Picard a few times, and then he disappeared."

"Wes," Crusher said almost reproachfully. "He didn't disappear."

"But Mom, that was what you always said. You said he disappeared from our lives and that he was a selfish—"

Riker's eyes nearly shot out of his skull at this.

"Okay, you know what, let's talk about this some other time," said Crusher hurriedly, picking up their bags, as the shuttle taxied into the shuttle bay of the Enterprise. Taking a deep breath, she reminded herself again all of the positive reasons she had applied for this assignment.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

**2364, Enterprise**

"Mother, I haven't even met anyone yet, and you are already trying to get me to find a husband!"

"What do you mean you haven't met anyone yet? There are hundreds of prospects for you on a ship that big, Deanna."

Deanna Troi paced around her new quarters while her mother's image and voice on a nearby monitor promised to drive her insane. "I just arrived! Besides, my job is to be ship's counselor not ship's prostitute, Mother."

"Deanna, no one says you have to charge anyone. Just get out and meet someone," Lwaxana Troi encouraged her daughter.

"I've got to finish getting ready. I'm sure the Captain will want to meet with us soon."

"Ooh, what about the Captain?" said her mother hopefully, "What's he like?"

"I don't know. But I can sense he is very unhappy with my being posted to the Enterprise, so I've decided to leave him alone a bit longer before I make my presence known."

"Oh," sighed Mrs. Troi. "He sounds just _awful_. Okay, Little One, run along now!" The screen went black, and suddenly but quite understandably, Deanna felt free.

* * *

Commander Zatha, commanding officer of the_ Ishran _was unhappy about nearly everything. Her grey antennae swiveled in frustration, and her face turned a darker shade of blue. She wasn't normally this way, but certainly under the circumstances, she had reason to be. First, the Andorian colony on Vithra had been almost completely wiped out. Second, the colonists died at the hands of Vulcans. Third, the murderers were still at large. Like every other Andorian, Zatha had an extraordinary sense of justice. She knew, without equivocation or question what was right and what was wrong.

And yet with all of her skill, the skill of her crew, she could not find the killers. And if the killers were found. Well, what then? Zatha did not need to be under orders to know that she was tasked with bringing the Vulcans to justice. And that meant swift death if necessary. According to her superiors, she should expect no only Vulcan involvement but Starfleet as well.

A new ship, Zatha heard, was being sent to intercept her efforts to find the murderous off-worlders. Starfleet involvement was a grave mistake. Why did the humans always take the side of the Vulcans? The Andorians had too earned their place among the founding races of the Federation, and yet, they were treated as unwanted step-children. Zatha would not be afraid, she would be patient, and the answer would come, if the gods would allow.

* * *

When Picard left the turbo lift and stepped onto the bridge, the bridge crew, now at their stations, fell silent. "Captain on the Bridge," shouted Commander Riker, and all crew stood at attention.

Picard walked down the ramp briskly, his eyes meeting some of the officers. Others he appeared to ignore. "As you were," he said loudly, and the crew relaxed to some degree. Continuing his walk all the way down to the view screen, he suddenly halted. "Activate," he snapped, and the view screen suddenly revealed a beautiful star field. They were traveling toward the Andorian system at full impulse, and the stars seemed to lazily drag by the ship.

He'd just come from Engineering where both his Engineers had debated whether the ship was ready to warp or not, and whether more controlled tests would be necessary. Why Starfleet had stuck him with two Chief Engineers, he had no concept. One was certainly more than enough. When Picard needed to know how long it would take to have something fixed was he to multiply by two now? Picard had finally had enough. "You'll get your test in a few minutes," he'd snapped at MacDougal. "Either we go warp now, or we can forget about reaching our destination in time."

Now on the bridge, he'd almost forgotten why he'd come up here as he gazed out at the stars in front of them. He would always love space, and nothing would ever change him in that way. After gathering his thoughts a few more moments, he turned to face the crew. He looked into each one of their faces one by one as he spoke.

"What you see behind me is more than a destination. It is an ideal; one that holds bravery, sacrifice, fairness and peace at its center. We are the new explorers, but we will explore in a way that honors and upholds that ideal. On my ship, everyone will be respected without exception. When I order you to do something, I expect it done diligently, as I had ordered it. I do not allow backbiting, backstabbing, backroom dealing, and anything else that cannot be done in an up-front manner with honesty and forthrightness. If I find that you are not meeting the ideals that Starfleet expects of us, I will let you know, personally. If you are not able to follow these simple rules, you may let me know now, and we will drop you at the nearest star base. Now…does anyone have any questions?" He looked around, and there was more than one ashen expression on the bridge, but the crew was silent. "Good," he said with a wide smile, not returned by anyone on the bridge. "Let's get to it."

"Sir," said Riker, approaching Picard as he walked back to his seat. "At warp 8 we will reach Andor in seventeen hours."

"Seventeen hours, 12 minutes, thirty-two point five seconds, sir," Data added from OPS without turning around in his seat.

"Thank you Commander," snapped Riker. He sat down next to Picard. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Deanna Troi smiling ever so slightly.

Picard remembered what the engineers had told him, and hoped he was making the correct choice. "Very well. Warp eight…engage."

"Aye, sir, warp eight," said Geordi, trying to keep the tremor from his voice as his hands flew over the controls. The view screen immediately turned into brilliant splinters of light, and the ship was suddenly sent forward at mind boggling speeds.

* * *

Picard stood up from his seat. "Counselor, Commander, please see me in my ready room," he said, walking ahead of them. They followed behind him as requested and once inside his office, he sat on the edge of his desk. "Please sit," he said, motioning with his hand.

"I apologize for not formally introducing myself to either of you individually, but as you can see, we are under some time constraints here. I want to talk with both of you for two reasons: one I have a feeling I will be relying on both of you in equal measure as the weeks and months go by, and I want you both to know that I do value your input. In fact, I prefer that if you have an opinion, you offer it. There is an area here that is…unfamiliar to me, in particular, the fact that there are children aboard, running back and forth and no doubt getting into things they shouldn't be…well, I may need some guidance from you both with those matters," he trailed off and did not seem to notice the corners of Troi's mouth curling into a smile.

Riker suddenly looked worried. Was Picard asking him to babysit? "Oh, sir I'm not sure I'd be much help with the kids—"

"And the second thing, Captain," Troi prompted. Riker shot her a warning glance, which she ignored.

Picard exhaled. "Yes, there was something else." He folded his arms over his chest and pursed his lips. "I note from your personnel records that you were stationed together for a year on Betazed, is that correct?"

Riker's mouth dropped open. Oh no. "Yes, sir that is correct."

Troi frowned but echoed him. "Yes, sir."

"While I certainly don't encourage the blurring of command lines, I have no specific rules about personal relationships between my officers, and I see your relationships as your business. However, I do require that you disclose your relationship, that is, if you have one, and then we may move on. Should there be any messy break-up issues in the future, it could affect the command structure," he added.

"Well, I am afraid we've already been there and done that, so to speak, Captain," said Riker, immediately regretting it.

"Pardon?" said Picard with a puzzled frown.

Troi laughed. "He means we've already done the messy break-up thing, Captain. So there is really no need to worry, sir. Commander Riker and I are just friends."

"Really", thought Riker sardonically. But he was careful not to allow surprise leak into his facial expression. "That's right, sir," he agreed, giving Troi a rather pointed look.

"Oh, please," thought Troi. "Don't pretend you were the only one hurt." Riker glanced at her again. Apparently they still had the ability to connect to one another's thoughts.

Picard, for his part, was clueless. "Very well, then. I appreciate your candor. Dismissed."

* * *

Just as they exited, the link beeped.

"Sickbay to Captain Picard," came an unknown male voice from the intercom.

"Picard here, go ahead."

"Sir, Dr. Crusher would like you to come down here as soon as possible."

Picard wished the young man could have seen his expression. "Who is this?" he demanded sharply.

"Ensign Revel, sir," said the nurse, now clearly shaken.

"Would you kindly tell Dr. Crusher that this is not how communication works aboard a star ship, and that if she has something to say to me, she needs to call me herself directly."

"Yes sir, sorry sir." There was a pause and a muffled discussion in the background. Amazingly, just as Picard was about to hit the button to click out, the man's voice came back again.

"She says she is too busy to talk right now sir, but if you would come down here, she will fill you in—"

Picard cut off the link so that he could curse loudly in the privacy of hisown ready room. "She's too busy, and yet _she_ called me," he muttered angrily to himself as he headed out the door and toward the turbolift. Tasha Yar could still hear him muttering something about "that woman", when the lift doors closed.

* * *

Picard strode in to Sickbay with a purpose, but as soon as he saw her, he completely lost all train of normal thought. She was facing away from him, gesticulating wildly to an orderly about some supply issue. He sincerely hoped she hadn't brought him down here for that reason. He cleared his throat, but somehow his voice sounded too deep when he spoke. "Doctor," he said, by way of greeting.

She spun around, as though she were going to keep yelling, but stopped when she saw him. "Oh," she said, and her mouth moved but no other sound came out. She made the "hold on a minute" signal to her nurse and then turned back to face Picard. She was holding a hypo in her hand and shoved it into the pocket of her blue lab coat. They stared at each other for a few moments more in silence.

"Doctor, welcome aboard," said Picard, suddenly realizing he was openly staring at her. She half smiled at him in that way she'd always had, and he felt a prickly warmth spread through his chest.

"Hello, Jean-Luc, it's good to be aboard—I mean it's good to see you." she corrected herself, sounding a bit out of sorts. "After all this time, I sometimes wondered if I ever would again."

"Well you made certain that would happen when you applied to come aboard my ship," he said, and instantly regretted his tone.

Beverly pursed her lips and picked the hypo back out of her pocket. Gesturing at him with it, she said "You know Jean-Luc, you've always had a way with words... except when it comes to me," she added.

Picard flushed with anger and embarrassment. "I apologize for my ill-conceived words Doctor. Now, if you would tell me exactly why you brought me down here, that would be most helpful."

"I was just getting to that," she said.

* * *

End of Chapter 5

**Hi everyone, thanks for reading and for all of your reviews. For some reason, this one is turning out to be a lot of fun to write. Happy holidays!-PP


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Security Chief Tasha Yar seated herself in the briefing room as the other bridge officers trickled in one by one as though they were on their way to a party. What was taking these people so long? Captain Picard had called a meeting, but apparently was busy down in Sickbay and he hadn't arrived yet. He had been gone a good half hour already, and Yar wondered briefly if she should go and check on him. It was in Yar's nature to be anxious, particularly about doing her job well, and making sure her fellow officers were safe. Of course, she was sure Picard could take care of his own personal safety on a routine visit to sickbay. No doubt, if anything happened to him, Doctor Crusher would provide him with immediate medical care.

She eyed Deanna Troi as the counselor made her way into the briefing room. Riker followed behind her. Troi and Riker were laughing about something just a few hours after coming aboard, so clearly they knew each other. Yar could not believe she was expected to serve on the bridge with a psychologist, as though having a counselor on board was somehow necessary to running a ship! Even worse, was Troi's propensity for wearing different outfits for different times of day, NONE of which were even Starfleet issue.

Yar noted that Troi had pulled her hair down from that ridiculous bun, and had already changed for the third time since coming aboard. Yar couldn't believe the amount of cleavage that Troi was now displaying. With everyone else wearing standard boring Starfleet uniforms it was downright distracting. She couldn't imagine how the Captain was going to feel, being subjected to the view of Counselor Troi's cleavage day in and day out. Not that she knew what Captain Picard's ideas on cleavage were. It had nothing to do with being prudish, but please; they were on duty. Why should Troi have all of the fun? Yar realized suddenly, that Troi had sat down and was quietly watching Yar with a knowing expression. "Great," thought Yar. "My mind is an open book to her." At that moment, Troi smiled at her as if in confirmation.

* * *

Picard glanced behind Doctor Crusher and saw nothing but empty shelving. It was true, she had brought him down here for a damn supply issue. Telling himself to remain calm, he simply waited for her explanation.

"This sickbay is _inexcusably _disorganized and under supplied, Captain," said Crusher. "Starfleet is sending us into a potentially dangerous situation with minimal medical supplies."

Picard sighed. "Doctor, there is no doubt that our departure was a bit rushed," he admitted. "What is it you need?"

Seemingly from out of nowhere she brought out her data pad and held it out for him to see. The number of items on the list she showed him was too long for him to read. He shook his head, handing it back to her. "I'm sorry doctor, but can't some of this be replicated?"

"Some of it, yes; most of it, no. And since when is it the Chief Medical Officer's job to replicate her own supplies.? Now I need these supplies, Captain, or rather, my patients need them." She adjusted her coat and folded her arms over her chest, standing in what he could only describe as an excessively defiant posture.

Picard glanced behind her again and then looked around a corner. "From the looks of it, Doctor, you don't have any patients, yet."

Her expression now angry, Crusher waved the hypo at him again, and this time he actually wondered if she was considering clonking him on the head. "Captain, are you familiar with Andorian physiology?"

Picard frowned. "Well I had an Andorian first officer for a time, but I never learned much about her—"

"Alright, so your answer is 'no'. Captain, none of my hypo sprays will work on any Andorian casualties we encounter. Because Andorians cannot be injected intravenously, I need a special instrument Andorian doctors use, which injects into muscle. Now because of the delicate muscular structure of Andorians we can't use anything we have on board for human use."

Picard was still annoyed, but saw her point. He thought a moment and then walked toward a wall, where he activated a computer panel. Crusher continued to watch him with guarded interest. A star map was pulled up, which she saw Picard study quickly. His finger rested on a tiny dot, which looked like nothing in particular to her eye. He turned and smiled at her and then called the bridge. "Commander Data, what is our estimated time of arrival at Andoria?"

"Fifteen hours, sixteen minutes-"

"Thank you, Commander," Picard cut him short. "If we take a short detour through the Nelar system at impulse and then re-engage at warp nine, how long will it take us to arrive at Andoria?"

"At warp nine from the Nelar system we will reach Andoria in fourteen hours."

"Very good. When we arrive at the Nelar system, drop out of warp and go to one half impulse. Make it so," he added.

There was a pause. "Sir?" queried Data.

"Do it," said Picard with contained annoyance.  
"Aye sir," said Data, signing off.

Picard turned back to Crusher. "Now Doctor, you shall have your supplies stocked soon enough. I know of a Ferengi trader in the Nelar system, and he always seems to have exactly what anyone needs."

Crusher clasped her hands together. "Wonderful, thank you," she said sounding relieved. "Now I can get back to my other duties."

She turned to walk away, but Picard grasped her forearm. "Not so fast, Doctor, I need you."

She stopped and looked down at his hand on her arm. "You need me?" Her eyes shone with barely contained amusement.

"On the bridge," he said quickly, letting go of her arm. "For a briefing," he added.

"It can't wait?" she said softly, still watching him.

"No," he said, clearing his throat. "The other officers will have assembled by now."

"Alright," she said easily. She hated staff meetings, but she saw no use in protesting, particularly since he had just promised to resolve her supply problem. "Nurse," she called to a young man holding an anti-grav cart. "If Wesley stops by after school, could you let him know I'll see him later for dinner? Thank you." The nurse nodded.

* * *

Picard followed Crusher out into the hallway, and then fell into step by her side. "Wesley?" Picard could almost kick himself. It seemed in his anticipation of seeing Beverly Crusher, he had somehow overlooked the fact that she would be bringing her teenage son aboard as well.

"Yes… Wesley," said Beverly looking at Picard, who now looked like he was developing heartburn. "Had you forgotten I have a son?"

"No, of course not," he protested, stepping in to the turbo lift. "No doubt, he has grown into a fine young man," he added.

Crusher and Picard both silently stared up at the ceiling as they ascended. "Halt," Crusher suddenly called out, and the lift slowed to a stop. Picard raised an eyebrow but just looked at her expectantly. "Jean-Luc, I realize this is a lot to take in all at once. It's a lot for me too, you know." He turned to face her and leaned against the wall, careful to keep distance between them. "I just want you to know, I had no idea that Starfleet kept my appointment from you until Walker told me. Given our history, I certainly don't blame you if you feel tricked."

Picard met her eyes for a moment and then looked away. "That is not how I feel, Beverly." The truth was, he could not even articulate how he felt. Not here and not now. "I have no objection with your assignment here. Certainly I would not ask for your transfer because of my own discomfort. This is your career, your life. I respect your choice to be here. Even if…I don't completely understand it, and certainly did not expect it."

Crusher knew he was trying to be considerate, in his own way, but could not let the significance of what he just said pass. "Jean-Luc, are you uncomfortable around me?"

"Um, Beverly, it's not as simple as that…" She gazed at him intently, daring him to speak the truth. "Yes," he finally admitted.

"Why?"

He shook his head in amazement. How could she not know how intensely he had felt for her all those years ago? And still, he couldn't let it go. "I don't think I want to talk about the reasons why. Not yet," he said.

She sighed. "Well if there is ever a time when you are ready to talk, will you let me know?"

He looked at her squarely. "Yes." She smiled gently in response.

"But," he began. "There is something I _would_ like to discuss with you now." His serious tone made her smile fade a bit. He breathed deeply. "T'Pel is here," he said. "She is working for the Vulcan government in an effort to aid in the rescue of the Redeemer children."

"T'Pel?" Crusher's face was suddenly a mix of emotions, as long-buried memories began to re-surface. T'Pel had been a good friend to her when she was aboard the Stargazer for the first few months of her pregnancy with Wesley, fifteen years ago. T'Pel had already broken it off with Picard by that time, for reasons unknown to Crusher. During most of the period, Picard had been away on a classified mission, arranged by their friend Walker. No one, except for Walker had known where he had gone, and when he had returned he was nearly unrecognizable.

Later she had learned that Picard had been in Rura Penthe, the notorious Klingon prison. While Picard was away, she had grown close to T'Pel while her relationship with Jack continued to grow more strained. Jack had suspected that Picard was in love with his wife, and although Picard had never admitted it, Beverly suspected that what Jack believed might be true. So although Picard's absence was in a way convenient for Beverly and Jack, it also seemed to highlight the fact that Jack and Beverly's relationship was no longer perfect, because even without him there, they struggled to reclaim the closeness they once had. If not for T'Pel, and her support, Beverly would have felt even more alone.

She looked at Picard. "I haven't seen her in ten years. Not since…since Jack died. Where has she been?"

Picard smiled. "I'll let her tell you. She told me she wants to talk with you. She will be at the briefing in a few minutes. So I wanted you to know beforehand. Resume," he said to the turbo lift.

He looked down, at a light warming sensation on his fingertips, and to his surprise, saw that Beverly had taken his hand in hers.

* * *

"We have dropped out of warp and are now in the Nelar system," Data reported as Picard and Crusher walked out onto the bridge.

"Good," said the Captain. "Scan for nearby ships."

Data's hands were a blur over the controls. "Captain, there are three ships in this sector. A Venarian scout ship, a Sarfleet science vessel, and an unmarked cargo ship."

"Lock on to the coordinates of that last ship. Ahead full impulse."

"Yes sir. At the present speed we should rendezvous with that ship in 40 minutes." Data noted that it would be exactly 40 minutes and 32 seconds, but had learned recently that if he attempted to recite the entire accurate time, he would invariably be interrupted.

"Excellent. Data, please join us in the briefing room." Data swiftly got up and followed them, as an ensign moved in to replace him at OPS.

* * *

As Picard slid into his chair at the long obsidian table, he hoped for a fruitful meeting. But it did not start that way. Troi, who sat to his right was wearing a casual outfit, from the looks of it, which showcased her figure in a way that was mildly distracting. He hoped she hadn't noticed, that he had noticed. In any case, it was not important. He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could get any words out, Troi was speaking.

"Captain, if I may, I would like to address an issue that has come up." She sounded slightly irritated.

"Of course," he allowed.

"It seems that more than a few of you are uncomfortable with the clothes I am wearing, although no one has said so directly. But I have noticed your discomfort, and in an attempt to make everyone feel better, I have changed clothes three times today already." The officers around the table grew quiet. They had all noticed her revealing outfit, but hadn't said anything out loud. Apparently, they hadn't needed to.

"Why don't you just wear a standard issue uniform?" Suggested Tasha, as though Troi could not have been sillier.

Troi was indignant. "I'll have you know that I come from a planet where the beauty of the physical body is celebrated, not covered up. Where requested I will wear whatever uniform the Captain requires. However, I like the way I dress. So, unless the Captain has any particular objection to my cleavage…"

The room fell silent, and the officers stared at Picard. "I have nothing against your cleavage, Counselor. Or anyone else's for that matter." said Picard with a completely serious expression.

"Now that we have settled that matter," he said surveying a table full of shocked and/or amused faces. "Let us move on to why we are here. He touched the intercom. "T'Pel, could you come in please?"


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

After the briefing, Crusher stopped to speak with T'Pel, and they agreed to talk more later on. No hugs were exchanged, for that was certainly not the way to greet a Vulcan, but there was a respect and a subdued kind of affection that transcended the need for a dramatic reunion. For both of them, the meeting brought back strong memories both good and bad. Ashe she watched T'Pel walk in to the turbo lift, she recalled the last time she had seen T'Pel.

Immediately after Jack had died, his body was brought to the morgue at Starbase 23. Jean -Luc, T'Pel, and two other officers who had survived the incident in which Jack died, had received medical treatment and counseling there. They had all spent about a week on the station, recuperating and trying individually to make sense of what had happened. Beverly had left Wesley, who had only just turned four, with friends while Starfleet Command brought her by ship to the star base. For Beverly she had been hit by a sense of shock followed by deep loss, and then anger that she was somehow being kept from the truth of what had happened.

T'Pel, Beverly remembered, had been unconscious for much of the time, and had been very badly injured. Not only had she sustained a head injury, but she had also lost her left arm. It had literally been incinerated by whatever energy source had killed Jack. She had sat and talked to T'Pel, who was constantly drifting in and out of consciousness. When she was able to talk T'Pel told Beverly to remember the meditation techniques she had taught her while pregnant with Wesley. "Always remember to breathe through any pain," T'Pel had told her.

Picard had sustained second degree burns covering his back and shoulders. He had said nothing when he first passed her in the hallway on the way to medical that first day. Later that day he had asked to see her. He was lying on his stomach on a recovery table, while the skin on his back healed and regenerated. She could see that his ribcage was severely bruised, which caused her to tell the nurse to shift him so that he would not develop a blood clot. Because of his position, he could not turn his head to look at her, and stared at the floor while he talked. His voice was very hoarse, she supposed because of his injury. What she did not know was that he had been crying almost non-stop for two days, imagining Jack's body falling to the ground, and his hands covered in Jack's blood and intestines. He had tried to literally put Jack back together, to keep him alive, but it hadn't worked. Once he arrived at the star base and saw Beverly, his tears seemed to have dried up, as though he no longer had the right to cry for Jack.

"_Beverly…"_

_She moved her chair closer to his bed, so that she could hear him better. "I'm here, Jean-Luc."  
Picard stammered. "Jack…he's…."_

"_Jean-Luc, I know. The admiral told me. I know he's gone." Her eyes began to fill with tears again. There seemed to be no end to them, so she didn't ever try to wipe them away anymore. She just let them fall._

"_He shouldn't have been there…" He whispered. "It was an accident. I—" His words were cut off by his involuntary groan. Crusher called the nurse over and told her to administer more pain_ _medication. As the hypo went in,_ _Picard went limp and began to mutter things she could not understand._

_She reached out to touch his arm, but his body jerked violently at the sensation, and she folded her hands back in her lap. "Jean-Luc…I need you to tell me what happened. The report is already classified and no one is saying anything. Please tell_ _me what happened."_

_Picard was now groggy from the medications. He closed his eyes and was shaking his head back and forth, as if in silent refusal. She begged him. "Jean-Luc. You're my friend too. I'm still alive and I want to know. Please tell me." Her voice was beginning to grow louder. His eyelids fluttered closed. "Dammit," she said, pounding her fist on her knee. _

_The nurse was suddenly by her side leaning in gently. "Ma'am, I'm afraid he is a bit out of it right now. Tomorrow he will be much better if you want to visit him then."_

_Beverly grabbed her purse and stood up. She didn't know if she wanted to visit him tomorrow or not. Tomorrow they would both be wide awake and facing the harsh truth that Jack was still dead._

The next day, he was better, at least physically. He was up and around, and she hardly noticed a slight limp when he walked. She had asked him if he would go with her to the morgue to view Jack's body, and of course he had said yes. As they stood side by side staring down at his body, he had said "He did not suffer, Beverly. It happened so very quickly." She looked at him then and saw for the first time, not a friend, but a starfleet officer, another military face intent on keeping secrets. After that, they had uttered only a few words to each other.

On the third day, an investigator came to Star Base 23, and questioned Picard for hours in a room. When she saw him emerge from the room he looked scared and confused; two emotions she had never seen on his face before then. The day after that, the same man returned with a piece of formal paper with a Federation seal on it. It was a summons, which he handed to Picard without a word. The next day, she saw Picard leaving and wearing a dress uniform. Something stopped her from calling out to him, and then he was gone. The next time she had seen him was at the funeral, about a week later.

* * *

You've traded in for a much better ship, since I last saw you, Picard." The Ferengi captain said through a sharp toothed grin. His face appeared immense on the view screen. Some faces, Picard noted did not benefit from high resolution.

"I'm sorry I can't say the same for you Darton," said Picard. "But despite my glorious ship, I could use your assistance."

"Really" howled Darton. "Since when does the great Jean-Luc Picard ask anyone for assistance?"

Picard kept his tone even. "My ship's doctor is in need of medical supplies including some rather exotic ones. We're willing to pay a handsome price," he added.

"What? You do not wish to barter? " Darton sounded very disappointed.

Picard shook his head no. "We haven't the time, as much as you know I enjoy chatting with you."

The Ferengi scoffed. "You're procurement skills need some work, Picard. Beam over and take a look at what I've got and maybe we'll do business."

The screen went blank and Picard turned to regard his first officer. "No doubt you would like to beam over, "he offered.

Surprisingly Riker did not insist on leading the away team. It seemed, Picard noted, that Riker knew how to pick his battles after all. "Sounds like you are familiar with this character, Captain, and there is no need to send a crowd over. I would recommend taking along some muscle though, just in case."

Picard nodded in agreement and surveyed the bridge for a moment. His eyes rested briefly on Worf at the Conn, and then seeming to reconsider, he headed up the ramp. "Lt. Yar, you're with me," he barked. Yar was out the door behind him without another word.

Once they were gone, Riker walked up behind Worf and gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. Worf emitted a low growl in answer.

* * *

Within minutes, Picard, Yar and Dr. Crusher had materialized inside the trader's ship. Their first impression of the ship was that it was dark. Their second was that it smelled—badly.

"Where did you say you knew this person from?" asked Crusher, eyeing Picard while trying to subtly cover her rather elegant nose. She held her data pad in her hand. Picard glanced at the daunting list again, and hoped she did not expect to find every item here.

"While on my last ship, I met quite a few unsavory characters during my travels. I have found that occasionally some of these connections come in handy." Crusher mumbled something about the unsavory smell, which Picard ignored. In fact, Darton was the only Ferengi he had met in person, so that everything he knew about Ferengi culture, which was minimal, he had learned through his dealings with Darton. One thing that he did know about Ferengi males, was that they were extremely sexist, a fact that he hoped would work to his advantage in this transaction.

Picard glanced over at Tasha Yar, who had a hand on her holstered phaser as Darton approached. Picard put a calming hand on her shoulder. Then he greeted Darton with his wrists together. Darton returned the greeting, but immediately dropped his hands when he saw Picard's companions. Darton was a small, toad like being with bulbous eyes, a giant cranium and spindly limbs. In other words, he was unattractive by human standards. But he was also very smart.

"Picard, you must think I am very stupid, if you think you will gain some advantage by bringing two females with you to distract me." Crusher and Yar simultaneously looked at Picard with virtually the same questioning expression. Neither one of them had ever met a Ferengi, and so far, they were less than impressed.

"These are two of my finest officers," said Picard. "And I assure you Darton, we have no tricks up our sleeves." The Ferengi looked at him with growing suspicion. "Now, if you will allow Dr. Crusher to see your inventory, we won't waste any more of your time, and we'll be on our way."

Darton looked around suspiciously as though Picard had hidden the real crew members behind these women. "When you said you had a ship's doctor I never imagined you meant a female," he sneered.

"Do you have something against women?" demanded Tasha. It had been a while since she had been in a real scuffle, and she wouldn't mind cracking some skulls. Or one.

"Or could it be that you have a special affinity for men?" added Crusher. "Either way, there's no need to take it out on us. Now where are those supplies?" Darton hissed at her, but began to pull out cargo containers. She showed him her list, which made his eyes bulge slightly. But as he scanned it with keen eyes, he made little sounds which Crusher decided to interpret as a positive sign. He also seemed to be checking out her chest, which was about at his eye level, which she knew was a completely negative sign.

"I have most of what you need," said Darton, and continued pulling containers until he had piled a bunch of boxes as high as his head, which Beverly noted was still low enough for her to rest her elbow on.

"How do we know you've provided us with quality goods?" demanded Tasha.

"You'll just have to trust me," Darton said, licking his lips in a grotesque manner.

Crusher ran her tricorder over the containers slowly. As Crusher leaned over the merchandise, unaware, Picard saw Darton reaching out to touch her behind with grasping fingers. Picard quickly grabbed the Ferengi's earlobe not at all gently, with a pinching grip. Darton twisted and squeaked, until Picard allowed him to slap his hand away and let go. Completely engrossed in what she was doing, Crusher finished her scan, as Picard folded his hands behind his back nonchalantly with a remote expression. "These actually look like the real thing," she said, sounding kind of impressed. Picard nodded his approval.

"Where are my credits?" demanded Darton, moving away from Picard, and clutching his tender ear. Yar let an unexpectedly girlish giggle slip out, before regaining her poker face.

"You'll get them once we beam the goods over. In fact we'll do the beam over simultaneously," said Picard.

Darton looked at him shiftily. "Can you even do that?"

Picard smiled. "You'll just have to trust me," he said with a wink. As they walked to the transporter pad, Darton tried to cop a feel as Yar walked by, and to her delight at the opportunity, she caught his wrist and twisted, easily sending him rolling to the ground. There were a number of curse words, few of which were understandable to humans, as the transporter beam engaged and they beamed back to the ship.

* * *

Hey, thank you for reading and reviewing! Your feedback is appreciated. Hope you enjoy. -PP


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